


Party Favours

by GoldandScarlett



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, What am I doing with my life?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldandScarlett/pseuds/GoldandScarlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That title sounds sort of dirty. I did not intend that. Basically, Courfeyrac throws a party, at Enjolras' house. And Enjolras really needs to study. Clearly the only solution is to get really drunk and text the person you may or may not have a thing for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Party Favours

Enjolras didn’t approve of frivolous noises at the best of times, and certainly not when his friends had decided to throw a relatively impromptu party and then decided that the best way to throw this party was to commandeer Enjolras’ apartment for the job. For, said Courfeyrac “If you’re not going to go out and have fun, we’ll have to bring the fun to you,” before he’d throw Enjolras a lavish puppy grin, shouted, “Party here, tomorrow night!” and skipped away down the hall.

Enjolras had then attempted to seek assistance from Combeferre, going to him and demanding that he talk some sense into his boyfriend. Combeferre had only blinked at him, with a slightly aghast look that clearly implied that he had absolutely no control over the matter and really what was Enjolras thinking even suggesting it. Enjolras had to admit that the blinking had made a strong point. Trying to talk sense into Courfeyrac was about as likely to occur as fixing the corruption in the French government (read: impossible). But fixing corruption in the French government being impossible had never stopped Enjolras from trying, and he figured he wasn’t about to start letting impossible things get the better of him  _now_ , so he had gone to hunt down Courfeyrac and talk some sense into him.

He had been unsuccessful.

“As your best friend,” Courfeyrac had explained importantly, “it’s my job to make sure you don’t end up alone and surrounded by cats because you never had any friends.”

“That entire sentence is an oxymoron,” Enjolras had informed him petulantly, “And I  _like_  cats.”

Courfeyrac had only shaken his head gravely. “See, Enj,” he said, “Point proven.  _We’re,_ going to throw a party, and  _you’re_ going to be there.”

Which is how a pile of loud, mostly drunk, college students had ended up crowded together in Enjolras and Combeferre’s infinitesimal living room, chattering away with what appeared to be every intention of simply never leaving, depriving Enjolras of some much needed sleep.

Then Marius suggested they bring out the karaoke. Because Marius was the  _worst_.”

“I need to get drunk.” Enjolras told Courfeyrac, who had just plopped down beside him on the couch, looking ludicrously pleased with himself. Apparently, it had been Courfeyrac who had convinced Marius to suggests karaoke. Enjolras should have known; if you looked back far enough, Courfeyrac was behind  _all_  bad ideas.

Courfeyrac looked surprised, but Courfeyrac bounced back from earth-shattering revelations easily. “Get you a beer?” He asked helpfully.

“I don’t  _drink_  beer,” Enjolras said, sounding sulky.”

"Ok well, until a few minutes ago, I wasn’t aware that you _drank at all_. So what  _do_  you want then? Vodka? Pina colada?”

"Wine.”

Courfeyrac sighed. “You and R both. I should warn you that all your wine is terrible.”

“Yes, I know. I bought it.”

Courfeyrac shook his head, bemused. “God, Enj. It’s like I don’t even know you.”

“Oh shut up and get me some alcohol,” Enjolras complained, “I have a report I should be writing for journalism, a debate to prepare, and a maths test to study for, and instead I’m here at your fucking party. Why  _am_ I here? Oh wait. It’s in  _my house_.”

"Alright alright!” Courfeyrac squeaked, still looking incredibly amused, “Shit ton of crappy wine coming right up.”

About a bottle of wine and a half later, Enjolras was feeling significantly better.  He wondered, in a hazy sort of way, why he didn’t get drunk more often. Obviously, he was more fun when he was drunk. His friend certainly seemed to be enjoying him more. Well, most of his friends; wasn’t someone missing? Someone was defiantly missing.  Oh. Right. Enjolras pulled out his phone and sent a text.

****

There was a knock on the door, and Enjolras got unsteadily to his feet to answer it.

“Yo,” said Grantaire, smiling winningly at him. “I hear you’re throwing a party? Courfeyrac reach his hand in and literally pull that massive stick out of your ass?”

A more sober Enjolras would certainly have wrinkled his nose and made some sort of biting response to such crass humour.  As it was, Enjolras could only blink at him and stumble out a slurred, “Why are you even here? Who invited  _you._ ”

The contempt in his voice was clear, and Grantaire winced, but he was well versed in brushing off scathing Enjolras comments. ‘You did. You texted me and told me you were throwing a party and that I should “get my ass over here.’”

“I would never say such a thing,” Enjolras replied promptly, attempting a self righteous posture that simply could not be contained in his current condition. “You’re drunk. ”

“I’ve been sober half a year,” Grantaire pointed out. He seemed more amused than hurt now. Not that Enjolras could really tell the difference at this point. “I’m pretty sure  _you’re_ drunk though. My, how the tables do turn.”

"Oh,” Enjolras said, swaying slightly. “Well then. I suppose I am. You can come in,” he added, as an afterthought

“Thank you,” Grantaire told him, bowing regally. “That’s very kind of you.

There was an awkward pause, and then Grantaire gently moved Enjolras out of the way so that he could close the door.  

"Right then,” Grantaire said, grinning broadly. He was in an abnormally cheerful mood suddenly, with grins to rival Courfeyrac’s own.   “So why don’t you tell me about this party of yours. I take it you have been meticulously planning it for weeks and counting the days til it’s arrival with eager anticipation.”

“Ha. I was blackmailed.” Enjolras scoffed bitterly.“I hate my friends. My friends are horrific. What about you? Are your friends horrific?”

“Oh yes,” Grantaire agreed, “My friends are  _truly_  horrific. Also strangely resemblent of yours.”

"That’s right! Because we have the same friends! Hahaha, that’s funny.”

“Why is that… funny?” Grantaire asked, sounding genuinely curios.

“Because, you’re so…” Enjolras flapped his hands wildly, as he attempted to find  his words. “Grantaire,” he said at last.

“Ah,” was  all Grantaire said, and just like that he had shut down again.

“Grant- aire?” Enjolras said carefully, hiccupping over the “aire”.

“Listen, do you actually want me here? Because I’m fine either way. I can go, you know.”

“No, no, no!” Enjolras cried, leaping forward to stop Grantaire from leaving,

And then he was fell haphazardly into Grantaire’s arms as the alcohol got the best of him and he felt his head spin.

Grantaire was watching him with worriedly. “Let’s sit you down,” he suggested, and then, when Enjolras showed no indication of moving, he hefted him into his arms and made for the couch.

“I can’t believe you’re  _drunk_ ,” he muttered, “I didn’t know you even  _drank_.”

"I do  _sometimes!”_ Enjolras protested. He was getting a little sick of everyone insisting that he never drank. Then he added, “I’m glad you’re not planning to leave anymore.”

"Hey,” Grantaire said, setting him gently down on the couch and plopping down next to him, so that Enjolras could rest comfortably against his shoulder, “I leave when you want me to.”

He stayed the rest of the night. Enjolras leaned against him, as Grantaire provided commentary on the party, mostly regarded how abysmally bad Marius was at holding his alcohol (he polity neglected to mention that Enjolras was equally bad if not in fact, worse.) until Enjolras drifted into a foggy, dreamless sleep.

Enjolras awoke in his own bed the next morning, with a massive hangover and the nagging feeling that something important had happened last night. He just couldn’t remember what…

And then his phone rang.

Enjolras groaned and rolled over, fumbling for his phone. He blinked at the caller I.D. Why the hell was R calling him? “Hello?”

“Hey, Enj!” The voice on the other end of the line hardly sounding like Grantaire it was so cheery. “How ya feeling?”

“Shitty,” Enjolras mumbled, his voice obscured by the pillow he was currently burring his face in. The light, he found, was far too bright. And R’s voice was far too loud. Everything really, was too much. He kind of wanted to curl up and die. Jesus it’d been a long time since he had gotten hungover.

On the other end of the line, Grantaire laughed. “Yeah, I can imagine. Jesus but you were plastered last night.”

“Can we not talk about it?” Enjolras snapped.

“Sure, sorry,” Grantaire said, retaining his relentlessly annoying cheer. “Want me to come over and make you some coffee?”

Enjolras sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But do it quietly.”

“Sure, Apollo.”

“And for fuck’s sake stop calling me that.”

“Aye aye fearless leader!”

“I am hanging up on you.”

****

“Combeferre let me in,” Grantaire explained, barging into Enjolras’ room with coffee in hand and only that feeble explanation for why he felt justified in marching into Enjolras’ room unannounced.

“Oh my God, Grantaire,” Enjolras practically squealed, pulling the blankets closer around himself like a shield. “What if I’d been naked?”

Grantaire merely waggled his eyebrows and set the coffee on Enjolras’ nightstand.

“Drink up you fucking lightweight.” He said. He was still grinning. It was a weird grin. Enjolras was beginning to get a little weirded out.

“Did I…” he began, “Did I maybe say something to you, while I was drunk? You’re acting…different.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Yeah, I was gonna ask you. But then I figured you’d want coffee first. Um” he was gazing at Enjolras, eyes all big and brown as the coffee he was supplying. Like a cow’s, Enjolras’ mind supplied. _That’s an unflattering thing to compare a person to_ , Enjolras told his mind but then, Enjolras’ mind was being all sorts of traitorous today.

“Look,” Grantaire said. He had taken off his beanie and was fidgeting with it, twisting it back and forth in his hands. “Did you still wanna go on that date with me? Or was it just the drunk you talking?”

“Oh.” Enjolras said.

There was a long silence which Grantaire broke by getting up. “That’s kind of what I thought,” he said. “Sorry. Forget about it.”

 _You should probably do something about this,_ Enjolras’ mind suggested, but Enjolras was too busy having an existential crisis to listen to it. Jesus, had he really asked R out while drunk? Did he even like R?

He paused, to think. And found that it hadn’t even been much of a question to begin with.

“Wait!”  Enjolras called. “Drunk me did a lot of stupid stuff last night. Asking you out wasn’t one of them.”

“Oh thank God,” Grantaire said, swinging back around. The tension in his shoulders had vanished, and he was grinning again, Enjolras noticed, pleased. “Hey um. Would you mind terribly, Apollo, if I were to kiss you?”

“Only because you used that stupid nickname,” Enjolras said, but the rest of his protests were drowned out as Grantaire pushed their lips together.

 


End file.
